


You Know How I Feel

by Theoroark



Series: Feeling Good [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Getting Together, Pre-Relationship, Sombra wears a lot of cute outfits, Team Talon (Overwatch), Widow's fun to write because unlike me, implied trauma, she has a legitimate reason for being emotionally illiterate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 15:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12236052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: When she first met Sombra, Widowmaker felt something. It hung around in her gut and flared every time she saw her and this was very unusual, most feelings that dared to breath in her would die off quickly enough. She had little experience with this sort of thing, and so it took her several months to properly identify it.





	You Know How I Feel

When she first met Sombra, Widowmaker felt something. It hung around in her gut and flared every time she saw her and this was very unusual, most feelings that dared to breath in her would die off quickly enough. She had little experience with this sort of thing, and so it took her several months to properly identify it.

 

 

Her first hypothesis, though she would never admit it, was jealousy. She had come to Talon simply because she had been the most perfect piece of bait, and then because she had been a highly malleable bit of clay, something Talon could shape into their most perfect tool. Sombra had been allowed to shape herself, and Talon had sought out her craftsmanship, had valued her skill. As Widow watched her brush a stray hair off her neural implants with her long, cybernetically-enhanced fingers, she could not help but wonder what she would have been if she had been allowed to assemble her body like Sombra had.

 

That was still an option, she thought. So she went to Reaper and asked if she could look into cyborgization surgery.

 

"Why?" he had asked, sounding honestly surprised.

 

"I believe it would allow me to become a more effective, competitive agent..." He folded his hands on his desk and she fell silent.

 

"We don't need another Sombra, Widow," he said. Her face stiffened. "We don't want another Sombra."

 

"She is capable of far more stealth and mobility than I currently am-"

 

"Sombra can't shoot like you," Reaper said. "Sombra can't fight like you."

 

"I could still do those things, as well as-"

 

"Sombra can't hack you," he said simply. Widow fell silent. "And Sombra can be hacked." She considered this, staring at the floor, and Reaper barked out a laugh. "Trust me, Widow. There are some advantages to being fully organic."

 

She looked up and saw his folded hands puddle into black smoke. She nodded. "I understand, sir. Thank you for your time."

 

When she left his office, she did not feel an ounce of jealousy for Sombra, and considered the matter resolved. But then she went to the gym and saw Sombra on the treadmill, wearing a big t shirt and short shorts and watching an old sitcom, and she felt again.

 

Her next guess was anger. She knew the second Sombra came back on comms that she had sabotaged the Volskaya job, and she could tell from the way that Reaper wavered and smoked the whole flight back that he knew as well. And yet Sombra carried on as normal, cheerful and smug, unaware they knew, sure of her superiority. It was infuriating. She was infuriating.

 

She had avoided her after that, and yet, Sombra still found ways of getting under her skin, popping into her quarters one day with a handful of diagrams and an obnoxious smile.

 

"What." Widow asked flatly.

 

"Got something I wanted you to help me with," Sombra said, setting herself down on the couch next to Widow, without asking permission. Widow moved as far away from her as possible but Sombra continued to chatter, unperturbed. "The Anubis data that team fucked up. It's an absolute mess, but Gabe really wants there to be something. Thought maybe another set of eyes would help."

 

She felt an itch in her mind when Sombra called Reaper that, and she put her hand to her head like she could massage the discomfort away. "You don't need me for this," she said. Sombra bit her lip.

 

"I mean, you got killer instincts. No pun intended. And I'm serious, there's a ton of noise. It really would go so much faster with your help."

 

Widow stared at her. "That's nonsense. You've done much harder jobs before. Why do you want me to do this with you so badly?"

 

Sombra sighed and turned to face her. The images she was still projecting with her hand obscured her face slightly. "Look, man. I don't know. You've just seemed kind of down since the St. Petersburg job. And like... I looked at the tapes. If the alarm hadn't gone off, you would have made the shot."

 

She was an emotionless, cold-blooded machine, she reminded herself, and yet it was all she could do to keep her rage from overflowing into her voice. "I know I would have," she said tersely.

 

"Well uh. I guess it just seems like you were upset we didn't get the job done? And I know you like to be productive, to help Talon succeed and all, so like- I thought this might make you feel better?"

 

Widow stared at the surveillance stills that were covering Sombra's face and thought back to the discussion she had had with Reaper, immediately after they had gotten back. She had followed him into his office and slammed the door shut behind her.

 

"She let Volskaya get away!"

 

"I know," Reaper said wearily.

 

"She's up to something! She sabotaged Talon for her own goals!"

 

"I know." He sat down at his desk and folded his hands and Widow stared at him.

 

"So what are you going to do about it?"

 

"This hit was a bad idea from the start," he said, almost absentmindedly. "Akande will be back soon. He would have been annoyed if Volskaya was eliminated."

 

"But it was still our mission! And I doubt she was thinking of Doomfist when she threw!"

 

"No, she only thinks about herself."

 

"So you're going to get rid of her?"

 

Reaper sighed. "No. Widow," he said, cutting her off as she opened her mouth to object. "Do you know what La Medianoche is?"

 

"No."

 

"It's what people in Mexico call the period after the Crisis. The entire Mexican power grid was destroyed in the Crisis, millions died, an enormous portion of the generation born into it became orphans during that time."

 

"Like Sombra," Widow said.

 

"Yes." He looked down at his hands, twisting them and morphing them. "It took many years for any kind of infrastructure to take shape. And in that time, that glut of orphans was abandoned by the state to what was left of their families or, more frequently, to gangs. They call it La Medianoche because it was a dark, desperate time, that the country is still recovering from."

 

"I don't get it. What does this have to do with anything?"

 

Reaper was silent for a moment, and Widow knew him well enough to know he was carefully calculating how much of his confidence she merited.

 

"It's not important," he finally said. "I can control her, is all I meant to say. Don't worry about it."

 

She left angrier than she had come in. She was not used to being found wanting.

 

"You're not very good at being nice," Widow said. The data disappeared, fully revealing Sombra's face, and she was surprised to see that she actually looked hurt.

 

"I mean. Neither are you."

 

Sombra pushed herself off the couch but Widow grabbed her wrist. When she looked back at her, confused, Widow motioned for her to sit down.

 

"I don't have anything better to do, I guess."

 

Sombra smiled widely and flopped down next to her and the images sprung out of her hands again. Widow stared at them, and not at Sombra, not at the arm Sombra rested on her shoulder as she flipped through the data. The anger went away but the feeling remained.

 

She finally achieved clarity a few weeks later, on another mission. She took out the ambassador and then slipped away in the chaos to the quiet street corner where Sombra was to pick her up.

 

Sombra came to pick her up on a damn motorcycle.

 

"You've never rode?" Sombra asked as Widow stared at the thing. "It's quick, agile, discreet- I'd think you'd be all about it."

 

"It's quite small," Widow said. Sombra laughed.

 

"You worried about falling? Then you better hold on tight."

 

She did. She sat flush against Sombra, the roar of the engine in her ears and her hair in her mouth. She gripped Sombra very tightly but she realized, about halfway through the trip, that she was not afraid of falling. When she dismounted and Sombra took off her helmet with a shake of her hair and a cocky smile, she realized that Sombra knew that as well.

 

Had known, she realized. Sombra wasn't as smart as she thought she was but here, she had to acknowledge, she had Widow beat. But as hard as she studied Reaper and Sombra during the debrief, she saw no signs of betrayal. He simply nodded and left same as he always did, and Sombra had watched him leave and then turned to her with that smile that didn't quite reach her eyes like she always did.

 

Sombra only thought about herself, she reminded herself.

 

She came to Sombra's quarters that night. Sombra looked surprised when she opened the door and saw Widow, and even more surprised when Widow slipped past her and closed the door.

 

"Is something up?" She asked. Widow looked at her, in her drawstring sweats and her baggy tank top, her hair unstyled and messy. She took a breath.

 

"I figured something out."

 

"Oh yeah? Shoot."

 

"When I first met you, I thought you were cute," Widow said decisively. Sombra blinked, clearly disarmed, before rallying with a smug smile.

 

"That's the past tense. You think I'm not cute anymore?"

 

"No, you are," Widow said. "I just think many other things about you now."

 

"Mmm," Sombra said. She took a step closer. "That a good thing?"

 

"It's mixed, I'd say." Widow met her gaze. "What about me? What did you think about me?"

 

"Less cute. More hot." Widow chuckled. "You want to know how I think about you now, too?"

 

"Please."

 

"I'd say it's mixed," she said in her worst French accent. Widow rolled her eyes. "But I'm glad I met you."

 

"So am I," Widow said. Sombra ducked her head down.

 

"You still think I'm cute," she said after a moment. She put her hand on Widow's waist.

 

"Yes," Widow said. "I do." Then she leaned in and kissed her.

 

She had almost forgotten how warm people could be, and when she put her hand on Sombra's cheek she imagined that Sombra must be warmer than most, right now. She felt grateful and worried and happy and something horribly soft, and she had not felt this much in a while and it made her almost light-headed. She pulled back and rested her forehead against Sombra's, and Sombra stroked the back of her neck.

 

"Are you okay?" Sombra whispered. It was the first time Widow had heard her ask a question like that.

 

"I have no idea," Widow said. "But it feels good."

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a Nina Simone reference but I have to say, if you take out the Drake parts Poetic Justice is the most Spiderbyte song ever. Also, the Medianoche bit is from [this](https://tacticalgrandma.tumblr.com/post/165883987175/dianevause-bruh-i-just-realised-something-this) cool piece of meta.
> 
> My tumblr is tacticalgrandma, if you want to talk to me there!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments or kudos would mean the world to me <3


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